


In Line

by chains_archivist



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Boys in Chains, Slaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 07:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4254264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by RavenD</p><p>A slave waits in line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Line

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).  
> \--  
> Title: In Line (1/1)  
> Author: RavenD  
> Archive: The Boys in Chains archive,  
> master_apprentice, anyone else, pls. ask  
> Author's web page:  
> http://www.ravenswing.com/ravendreams/  
> Category: POV  
> Rating: NC-17, for language  
> Fandom: TPM  
> Warnings: none  
> Spoilers: none  
> Summary: A slave waits in line.  
> Notes: This is my Happy 1st Anniversary BiC  
> Archive fic. I'm pleased and honored to have been  
> involved with the archivists, the writers, the  
> artists, the readers, and especially MJ Lee,  
> basingstoke, Mystique and Velma Doo. *g*  
> All mistakes are mine.  
> Feedback: Waited for with bated breath.  
> Disclaimers: I don't have enough to pay  
> attention. Lucas owns everything.

Oh, not you. Not you. You can't see me, not  
here. I will not let that self-righteous son of a  
whore see me here, not like this. I am not going  
to let you see me -- filthy, hair matted down my  
back, one eye swollen shut and whip marks scabbing  
on my thighs. Not when you're standing there, calm  
and cool and so utterly Jedi.

You don't think that undercover costume *fools*  
anyone, do you?

You're looking at the first row, the pretty ones,  
the young girls. They're quite lovely, all tears  
and trembles and dewy-eyed pleading. The dung  
piles that keep us here let them bathe. Raises  
the price, I suppose. I know when I was shopping  
for flesh it did.

What are you up to? What does the Council of Liars  
have their own personal savior of the universe  
doing now? Looking for a new pet? Did you already  
dump young Kenobi? Or did he dump you?

Fine piece of ass on that one, not that he'd look  
at me twice, in the state I'm in. I've often  
wondered what it would be like, to be buried to  
the balls in him, listen to his soft sighs, watch  
that smooth ass work itself on my cock. He's got a  
spectacular mouth and those eyes...

Tell me, Jinn, did he cry the first time you  
slipped yourself in his throat? Was it erotic as  
fuck, the agony and panic in those eyes? If they  
hadn't doped me to the edges, I'd get about in the  
convoluted mass you call a brain and pluck the  
memory to savor. There's little doubt you fucked  
him, after all.

Fucking people, why that's your gift.

What are you looking for? There are a few Force  
sensitives here, not enough to draw attention, not  
a distinct lack of us either. Sith's hell, we're  
not THAT uncommon. There are plenty of lucky  
people who avoided the yoke of the Jedi. What is  
the old man doing?

I can't stay back here forever, you know, Jinn.  
Eventually one of the guards is going to figure  
out that the not-exactly bulky Force-user doesn't  
belong with the miners. Even if I don't escape, I  
won't be sent to the mines.

Not with my cheekbones.

I'll end up as a novelty item in an Outer Rim  
whorehouse -- if I'm lucky, I'll be flat on my  
back beneath some heavy-pocketed smugglers until I  
can convince one to set me free. If I'm not...

Well, if I'm not, I wouldn't be the first slave to  
die bleeding and raw. There's precious few in the  
galaxy who would mourn me.

You made sure of that when you killed my father.

Come on, Jinn, find your newest pet project and  
leave. You've got enough information, enough of  
whatever the fuck you've been sent here to find.  
Everything you need, do you hear me Qui-Gon Jinn?  
You have all the information you need. You can  
move on to the next stall.

Stupid fucking drugs. If I could, I'd slip into  
your mind and...

Wait, if they hadn't drugged me I'd have popped  
the chains and would now be sitting in some  
well-appointed room having a nubile young thing  
suck me off. Vengeance is well and good, but it's  
not going to replace luxury and pleasure.

You don't see me. I'm just another too-skinny man  
who's spread his legs before too many strangers.  
You wouldn't know me. I'm just one more slightly  
bruised, over-used smelly slave in a long line of  
piece of shit unfortunates. No one you'd know.

It's okay, remember, Jedi don't buy slaves. They  
don't buy slaves. Especially not old, tired  
worn-old, unrecognizable, former padawan slaves  
hidden in the back row.

No one you'd know. Although, I'd recognize you  
anywhere, slave or no. I have hunted you, been  
hunted by you for years. It's quite entertaining,  
especially when you let that boy of yours  
play.more. You've gotten older in the last few  
years, getting more grey every time I see you.  
More wrinkles, too, I see. Your eyes haven't  
changed a bit though. They're still that same  
blue.

That same blue, dark and rich and tinged with more  
than a slight spark of recognition and...  
pleasure?

Oh, shit.

The End


End file.
